


Far From The Madding Crowd

by rain_sleet_snow



Series: My Family (And Other Dinosaurs) [18]
Category: Primeval
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-31
Updated: 2009-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Funny how just the idea of getting out of the city makes it easier to clear your head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far From The Madding Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for fredbassett, prompt ‘Liz/Juliet, Lester/Lyle, double date’, which has been an extremely long time coming. It refused to fit entirely together until last night, and the fact that it ever coalesced into something resembling a fic has more to do with the kindness, brutal honesty, and typo-spotting of Luka, fififolle, and canadian_jay than anything I ever did.  
> I should also, perhaps, add that if you have a problem with teenagers being around drink and drugs, no matter whether they’re taking either, then you maybe shouldn’t read this fic as such an incident is mentioned. It’s perfectly mild and the experience described common to a thousand London teenagers, but I do not wish for pearl-clutching in my comments, and would like to assure you all that I am thinking of the children.

            “What!” came the shriek from Dr. Emily Sayers’s study. “What do you _mean_ Edinburgh? What do you _mean_ this weekend? _Whose crackpot idea_ -“

 

            Juliet put down her pen and listened with interest.

 

            “-Oh, _shit_ ,” Juliet’s mother said reverently, and then giggled irrepressibly. James Lester had once remarked, to her face, that the reason Emily had managed to be so wildly successful as a serious academic researcher and an unmarried single mother was by looking like a ditzy blonde doll, giggling sweetly at every opportunity, and stabbing her enemies in the back without even the smallest twinge of conscience. “Of course, that’s rather the problem, isn’t it? Oh _dear_. Well, give him my condolences when next you hear from him. I suppose I’ll have to go, Oliver, but don’t imagine I won’t be after my pound of flesh later on; I can’t leave my daughter on her own for the whole weekend, so I’ll have to find her somewhere to stay or maybe take her with me, and it’s _Thursday_ , Oliver... I know you’re sorry. Yes, yes, eternal gratitude... Oh good heavens, man, I’ve said I’ll do it, _shut up_. See you in Edinburgh! Byeeee!”

 

            A click announced that Emily had put the phone down. Thoughtfully, Juliet finished her sentence, shut and padlocked her diary, and got up, meeting her mother in the door of her bedroom.

 

            “Darling,” Emily said, “I am so sorry, but one of my colleagues is stuck in New Delhi with a nasty case of the runs, and he’s supposed to be at a conference in Edinburgh this weekend. There’s no-one else who could do it except me.”

 

            Juliet shrugged, and smiled at Emily to show she wasn’t upset. “Fine. I’ll ask Liz if I can crash at her place.”

 

            Emily smiled back, relieved. “Oh, good. I would take you with me, but-“  


            “ _Bo_ -ring,” Juliet chimed, rolling her eyes.

 

            Her mother punched her lightly in the shoulder. “Hey, you aren’t the one who gets to listen to discourses on the chemistry of the lesser spotted blue-nosed turnip, as grown on the International Space Station. Or whatever.”

 

            “Got to love the blue-nosed turnips,” Juliet said solemnly. “Best part of your job.” She turned away, and lifted a stack of textbooks and a pile of impeccable notes off her desk in search of her mobile. “A- _ha_.”

 

            She pressed the speed-dial for Liz’s number, put the phone to her ear and waited.

 

            “I’d better go and start packing,” Emily murmured, running her hands through her blonde hair distractedly. “Otherwise it just won’t happen, and there I’ll be, half an hour before my train... Oh my God, _train tickets_... hotels... Expenses are going to hate me. Let me know what Liz says.”

 

            “Yeah, yeah,” Juliet said soothingly, listening to the dial tone. Eventually, Liz picked it up.

 

            “Ju! Nice timing. I was in the shower!”

 

            Juliet laughed. “Sorry, babe.”

 

            “Never mind,” Liz sighed. “It’s not like I didn’t manage to wash the conditioner out of my hair or anything. I’m just standing here. Dripping. In a very small towel, ’cause Jon’s buggered off with the big one. Oh, and there’s a draught. I would shut the window, but I’ve got no intention of giving everyone on the river an eyeful.”

 

            “Oh, Liz, my heart bleeds for you.”

           

            “I just bet,” Liz said dryly. “You okay?”

 

            “I’m fine,” Juliet said, flopping down on her bed. “It’s just that one of Mum’s work mates has gone and got diarrhoea, and her boss is sending her to a conference in Edinburgh. Essentially, can I come and stay with you this weekend?”

 

            “Depends on how much you mind the Mendips,” Liz said. “Or on how much you mind Jon and Dad’s company, rain, and the strong possibility that you will end up down a cave and covered in mud; I quite like that mental image-“

 

            “ _Liz_!”

 

            Liz laughed. “But, you know, you might think otherwise. Also the cottage we stay in can be a bit cramped.”

 

            “Hadn’t you better ask your dad? And I can sleep on the floor or a mattress or whatever, doesn’t matter,” Juliet said, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

 

            “’Course I’ll ask him. He’ll say yes. And, um.” Juliet could hear the hesitation in Liz’s voice. “The floor’s stone. Mostly speaking. You could... share with me?”

 

            Juliet felt her heart thud, and a reflexive blush spread over her cheeks; she was glad her mother wasn’t here to see this.

 

            They’d been a good, steady five months into their relationship (a record for Juliet, Liz, and indeed their entire year, which was still reeling in astonishment) when they’d attended a party at someone’s house. It had been fairly eventful, as these things went, and Juliet had realised the moment she’d been cornered by a boy who was plainly stoned out of his tiny mind and inclined to ask questions about the meaning of life that accepting the invite hadn’t been wise. She had kneed the boy in the balls, ducked away from him and into Liz’s arms, and they had made a swift exit, heading back to Liz’s house, where they’d been sufficiently tired and woozy to want to just fall into bed; neither of them had had any of the pot or harder drugs they knew were about the place or thought they’d had anything more than a bit alcoholic, but apparently whatever they  had been drinking had been spiked with something stronger or the fumes about the house had been thicker than they’d realised, because they had fallen into the same bed, and neither of them remembered doing it.

 

            It had been very embarrassing, and Juliet knew Liz had almost committed wild murder when she’d interrogated the host about the contents of his drinks, and all he’d had to say on the subject was an interested “So, did you get off with Juliet, then?” In the end all Liz had done was snatch his drink out of his hand and throw it into his face, and the general consensus was that he was lucky to get away with that.

 

            Still, what Juliet remembered, which after getting back to Liz’s flat mostly consisted of waking up eight hours later with a headache, had been... nice. She had a fragmented memory of drifting awake in Liz’s arms, and feeling really safe and warm and content right up until she’d become conscious enough to ask herself the crucial questions _where am I_ , _who is that_ , and _oh my God what happened last night_. If Juliet was really honest with herself, something she liked to avoid as much as possible, she wanted to repeat the experience.

 

            “Julie? Are you still there?” Liz sounded worried.

 

            “Yes. I- yeah.” Juliet took a deep breath. “Yeah... Maybe.  I’d like that.” She paused, rewound the conversation in her brain and then said hastily: “But not for-“

 

            “No! No, I know.” The younger teenager was calmer now. “No. I remember. Still fifteen. I just... don’t think you’d like sleeping on the floor very much. And I don’t like it. And there isn’t any heating at that bloody cottage, excepting the Aga, so it’s always fucking freezing.”

 

            “Language,” Juliet teased, and laughed at Liz’s response; Liz always started to swear when she was uncomfortable, or just as a release of tension.

 

            “Yeah... so. Pack warm stuff. Have you got walking boots? Pack those too. I’ll go and ask Dad- um, maybe I should put some clothes on first...”

 

            “It’s a thought,” Juliet drawled, running a hand through her hair. “Call me back, yeah?”

 

            “’Course. Ten minutes.”

 

            “Mm-hm. Talk to you then.”

 

            “Bye!”

 

            Juliet hung up, stretched, flopped back onto her bed and lay staring up at the ceiling. Well, this weekend was going to be interesting, at least, she thought, and prised herself off the bed to rummage through her drawers, picking out clothes.

 

            Less than five minutes later, the phone rang. “Dad says it’s fine,” Liz said, without preamble. “D’you want to come home with me after school tomorrow? We usually drive down Friday evening.”

 

            “Yeah.” Juliet tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and smiled. “Yeah, love to. Thanks, Liz!”

 

            “It’s nothing. Tell your mum my dad says have fun in Edinburgh.”

 

            “I will. See you at school, then?”

 

            “Yeah. Um, Juliet-“

 

            Juliet frowned. “What? Something wrong?”

 

            “About the... sharing a bed thing. Um, you don’t have to. Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

 

            She smiled, feeling a sudden rush of affection for Liz. This was why she’d asked Liz to go out with her, even though it was totally unfamiliar territory for both of them to be dating a member of the same sex, even though they weren’t sure how friends and family would react, even though Liz was the school bad girl in a tomboyish sort of way, tough and scary with a record of fighting and a stare that said she didn’t give a damn what you thought. Because, once you got to know her – and after the incident with the, the- well, the _thing_ on their abortive Duke of Edinburgh trip, Juliet had – she was smart and compassionate and affectionate. Still tough, and an endearment wouldn’t cross her lips unless they were on the Titanic and sinking fast, but Juliet liked the way Liz always had time for her, smiled at her like she meant everything, and reliably noticed if something was wrong. And occasionally made something wrong up, just in case. “I’m fine with it, Liz. As long as you are.”

 

            The sigh of relief made Juliet laugh at her. “We’re all good, then?” Juliet asked.

 

            “We’re all good,” Liz confirmed. “Remember, _walking boots_. And trainers, and, just... cold-weather stuff. See you at school, yeah? Are you biking in or catching the bus?”

 

            “Bus, probably, if I’ve got stuff with me,” Juliet said. No way would she be able to manage a weekend bag, schoolbooks, London traffic and the dodgy gears on her bike all at the same time.

 

            “Okay. I just wanted to know because if I went in by bike, then...”

 

            “Yeah,” Juliet agreed. Dragging a bike you didn’t intend to ride around London for any length of time was just really spectacularly awkward.

 

            “Okay, cool,” Liz said. “See you tomorrow, Ju.”

 

            “See you then. Bye!” Juliet sang down the phone, giggled at the resulting snort from Liz, cut the call, and began to pack in earnest.

 

***

 

            The denizens of the apartment block in which James Lester lived heard them coming before they saw them.

 

            “Ouch! Oh my _God_ , Juliet, what have you _got_ in here, the lead off the roof?”

 

            “Just the stuff you _told_ me to bring! Honestly, chivalry is dead. It’s not even that much, you wimp, look, give it here-“

 

            “No, no, it’s fine. Are you familiar with the concept of a wheelie bag?”

           

            “It has wheels. It’s just that you’re such a macho idiot you won’t let me take the bag off you and pull them out!”

 

            “It has?... Oh. Anyway, you can’t call me macho; I’m a girl.”

 

            “I can if I say so, Elizabeth Alison Lester.”

 

            “Oh, snap!”

 

            “Ugh, for _God’s sake_ -“

 

            A tussle ensued between the dark-haired girl and her shorter companion, whose blonde hair flew every which way as she attempted to remove a large weekend bag from the other girl’s custody.

 

            “Look, there’s no bloody _point_ , we’re here now,” Liz pointed out soothingly, and chirped a greeting to the concierge, who looked frostily at them.

 

            A whisper of ‘oh my god _battleaxe_ ’ and a giggle followed the teenagers into the lift. When they reached the right floor, and got inside the flat- a complicated manoeuvre involving Liz refusing to give up her burden, Juliet complaining at the top of her voice and trying to get between the door, and a certain amount of laughing at their own ridiculousness –Liz dropped the bags she was carrying and rubbed her shoulder with a grimace.

 

            “I swear, Juliet. Do you _need_ all that kit?”

 

            “Yes,” Juliet said defensively, and then, more anxiously: “If it’s going to be a problem-“  


            “Of course not!” Liz almost squeaked, indignant. “It’s just that carrying that much around is not good for you.”  


            Juliet sniffed. “It’s not that heavy.”  


            “Allow me to assure you that it is.” Liz stretched, and glanced casually at her watch. “We’ve got an hour or two till Dad and Jon get back. Then we usually eat dinner and go. By the time we actually get there, we’re mostly so knackered we just fall into bed...”

 

            Juliet didn’t miss the quick glance Liz shot her. She smiled at her, trying to reassure. “I’m still okay with it, Liz.”

 

            Liz smiled, relieved, and reached out to squeeze Juliet’s hand quickly. “I worried. Look, you might like to have a shower and change out of uniform, yeah?”

 

            “Please,” Juliet said, kneeling to pull clean jeans, a t-shirt and hoodie out of her bag. Both girls were still dressed in school uniform, Juliet in a blue pleated skirt that just about met the uniform length and Liz in black trousers, but both in the same blue-trimmed grey jumper, white shirt and much-loathed school tie (though Juliet’s was still intact, and Liz’s had been stuffed in her bag the moment she left the building.)

 

            “You know where the bathrooms are, right?”  


            “Obviously,” Juliet said with tolerant scorn. “It’s not like I haven’t been here a zillion times before.” She grinned suddenly. “This weekend is going to be _fun_.”

 

            Liz laughed at her, and went off to change and shower herself. This weekend might be problematic, in terms of sleeping in the same bed and actually being aware of it this time, but still- Juliet wasn’t the only one looking forward to it.

 

***

 

            “Does it ever bother you,” Juliet asked, catching the can of Coke Liz threw at her, “having Jon around?”

 

            Liz shrugged, and popped the ring opener on her own can. “No. Why?”

 

            “I just wondered.” Juliet vaulted up onto the breakfast bar, and opened her own Coke, taking a long swallow. “I’d hate it if someone was always around when I was trying to talk to my mum, or always wanting to go off with her and do stuff without me.”

 

            Liz jumped up onto the counter opposite, narrowly avoided falling into the sink, and raised her eyebrows at her girlfriend. “Has your mum got a new boyfriend?”

 

            Juliet snorted into her Coke. “Mum doesn’t really have boyfriends. She goes on dates, or out for a drink with people, sometimes. I think once or twice I’ve met them, but they don’t stick around.” She grinned. “One of them told Mum she was a commitment-phobe.”

 

            Liz snickered, idly kicking her heels against the cupboards. “Jesus! What did Emily do to him?”

 

            “Told him he was useless in bed, flaky, rude to me and irritating, so she didn’t really see a reason to keep him around,” Juliet said triumphantly. “But you didn’t answer my question properly.”

 

            “You didn’t answer mine either.”

 

            Juliet rolled her eyes. “No. She hasn’t got a new boyfriend. Can you even remember what my question was?”

 

            “Duh,” Liz said comprehensively, took another long drink of Coke, and put the can aside. “Does it bother me having Jon around. No, it doesn’t. I like him. We get on.”

 

            “You and your dad are so close, though,” Juliet objected, crossing her legs neatly. “I mean... don’t you miss...”

 

            “Miss what?” Liz raised her eyebrows again. “I didn’t stop being close to my dad just because he started dating someone else.”

 

            “Yeah, but...” Juliet rubbed her forehead. “Oh, God, I don’t know. Forget it.”

 

            “You’re just not used to sharing your mum with anyone,” Liz said mildly, and shrugged again. “You get used to it. I mean, I liked having Dad to myself, we always got on better than me and Mum...”

 

            There was a brief pause while both of them considered Kathy Burke’s relationship with her eldest child, and the last time Kathy had seen said child – which had been an entirely accidental encounter, and it _so_ wasn’t either Liz or Juliet’s fault that Kathy had barged into Liz’s room without knocking when she was hardly ever even in the flat, and caught the pair of them making out. Juliet and Liz caught each other’s eye, and both turned pink.

 

            Liz coughed, eyes sliding away from Juliet’s. “Um, yeah. Anyway, when it was just Dad and me he was always unhappy and stressed. I mean, a lot of it’s his job, but...” she waved a hand, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was perfectly well aware of what her father did. “Jon knows more about that than I do, so he helps him there. And he makes Dad happy. Well, he teases him, forces him to wriggle through muddy passages in the back end of beyond, and has extremely noisy sex with him that means I sleep with earplugs in, but it amounts to the same thing. That makes up for a _lot_.”

 

            Juliet hummed, and disappeared into her can of Coke.

 

            Liz rolled her eyes at her. “You’re going to have to deal with it at some point.”  


            “I know,” Juliet mumbled. “But I still don’t get-“

 

            Liz slid off the counter, relieved Juliet of her empty can and chucked both cans into the recycling. “Get what?”

 

            “He’s always around. Don’t you miss it just being you and your dad sometimes? I’d hate it if Mum’s boyfriends were always there, twenty-four seven cluttering up the house.”

 

            “You clutter up my flat,” Liz pointed out. “I like it. And you know, sometimes he has to go away for ages, and Dad misses him like hell.” She shrugged. “I do, too. Life is more interesting when Jon’s breaking the flowerpots on the balcony and titillating the Dowager Lady Fanshawe-“

 

            Juliet giggled. Liz grinned. “-well, it is! And, you know...” She stared out of the window, over the river to the green expanse of Battersea Park. “I...” She glanced at Juliet. “You know how Mum completely fails to understand me on the most basic levels almost every single time we meet without fail?”

 

            “In the same way I know the sky is blue, yeah.”

 

            “Jon... doesn’t.”

 

            There was a brief moment of silence while Juliet, still perched on the breakfast bar, watched Liz with her head tilted on one side and a small smile on her face. Then she jumped down to the floor, padded over to Liz and hugged her. “He makes both of you happy.”

 

            Liz slid her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “Yeah. Except when he’s stealing all the bloody towels.”

 

***

 

            “Sir James,” Lorraine said sweetly, “why are you still working?”

 

            “Because it’s my job, Miss Wickes.”

 

            “It’s six o’clock, Sir James. You are due at home. I have only just dissuaded Lieutenant Lyle from actually dragging you out of the office- I thought it would be detrimental to your dignity.”

 

            This speech was interrupted by a curse from Sir James. “Is it really that late? I hadn’t realised.”

 

            “It is absolutely that late.”

 

            There was a brisk hammering on the door. “James! Get out here!”

 

            Lorraine rolled her eyes, crossed to the door, and hauled it open. Despite being several inches shorter than the soldier, she somehow managed to look down her nose at him. “Patience, lieutenant, cultivate it.” She slammed the door.

 

            Lester raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled professionally at him. “I just wanted five seconds to inform you that I do know about the box of work you took home last weekend, and you aren’t going to take an equivalent home this weekend.”

 

            Lester tapped his fingers on the desk and narrowed his eyes.

 

            “ _No_ , sir.”

 

            Too tired to overrule her, Lester resorted to childish tactics. “Then you can’t either.”

 

            Lorraine just raised serene eyebrows at him. “I wasn’t proposing to.”

 

            Lyle, impatience evidently getting the better of him, burst through the door. “For God’s sake, enough with the toothless civil-servant wrangling, let’s-“

 

            “ _Out_ ,” Lorraine said, glaring at him.

 

            He glared back.

 

            “I said _out_.”

 

            Lester pinched his lips together, in a desperate attempt to stop himself laughing at the picture his boyfriend presented, being bossed around by five foot seven of mild-mannered civil servant. Lyle caught his eye and _pouted_ ; it looked ridiculous on a grown man, and probably hotter than it should have done combined with the impatient mock-scowl on his face. Lester gave up the fight not to laugh, and Lyle relaxed into a grin.

 

            Lorraine cracked a smile. “ _Both_ of you, _out_.”

 

            They obliged. Lester only remembered halfway to Battersea that he hadn’t brought any work.

 

***

 

            It was in Lester’s Mercedes, on the way to his and Liz’s flat, that Lyle asked: “How come Juliet’s coming?”

 

            “Do you mind?” Lester countered, gliding to a stop at a red light.

 

            “No. I like Juliet.”

 

            Lester smiled. “Yes. Juliet comes to stay with us every now and again, when Emily’s sent off to conferences and the like; it’s just that this weekend was sprung on Emily, rather. A colleague stuck in India with D and V can’t make it to a conference in Edinburgh, and Emily can’t leave Juliet on her own for a whole weekend.”

 

            Lyle winced and folded his arms. “D and V? _Niiice_. Where’s Juliet going to sleep, though? Cottage only has two bedrooms.”

 

            Lester pressed his lips together. “Liz and Juliet have... sorted that out between themselves.”

 

            “You mean they’re going to share a bed,” Lyle translated, eyebrows flying up. “You and Emily are going to let them?”

 

            “Yes,” Lester said simply, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and staring out of the windscreen. 

 

            Lyle looked surprised, and it was fair enough. He had been at the flat when Emily had rung up, almost panicking about her daughter’s whereabouts and asking Lester if he knew where Liz was, and if he could get either of them on their mobiles. He’d actually been the one who checked Liz’s bedroom and found them sleeping deeply, almost passed out in each other’s arms, still fully dressed and wearing smeared make-up from the night before. Considering the loud argument Lester and Liz had had when the two girls had finally woken, disentangled themselves, cleaned up, and explained – pale with shock – that neither of them had any recollection of what had happened to them after reaching Liz’s front door, it seemed odd that Emily and Lester were willing to let them share a room.

 

            Lester glanced sideways at Lyle’s face, and scowled. “I thought they’d gone out to get drunk, Jon,” he said, at his snippiest. “Sharing a bed sober and in a spirit of not having to sleep on the floor is entirely different from collapsing in an inebriated heap on Liz’s bed.”

 

             Lyle hooted sceptically. “You actually think Liz would deliberately go out and get so pissed she didn’t know what she was doing?”

 

            “I’d _prefer_ her not to drink at all. Not at the age of _fifteen_.”

 

            “And it turned out that she wasn’t drinking,” Lyle said, with a roll of his eyes. “But still. Are you not worried if you let them sleep together they’re going to fuck?”

 

            Lester slammed on the brakes in order to avoid crashing into an unwary motorbike rider. “ _Jon_!”

 

            Lyle shrugged. “Teenagers. Functioning libidos.”

 

            “Rather long words for you, _darling_ ,” Lester said with heavy sarcasm. “Liz volunteered the information that Juliet’s views on sex with anyone before both parties are above the age of sixteen are unusually stringent, and that she respects that.”

 

            There was a short, awed silence. Lyle filled it, grinning. “And I bet you both died of embarrassment after she said that.”

 

            Lester refused to answer that, and stared straight out of the windscreen until they drew into the underground car park that served those who lived in Lester’s block of flats.

 

            “You know,” Lyle said, smiling innocently, “this is sort of like a doub-“

 

            “Don’t say it,” Lester growled.

 

***

 

            The first thing Lyle said when he burst cheerfully into the flat, making Juliet squeak and wobble on the stool she was standing on to try and reach the refill for the salt shaker which was stuck at the back of a top cupboard, and Liz crack an egg over her hand and swear, was:

 

            “This is sort of like a double date, isn’t it?”

 

            Juliet giggled, caught Liz’s eye, and giggled harder. Liz merely scowled horribly at Lyle. “There’s eggshell in my sodding potato omelette now, you bastard. I hope it rips your throat to bits.”

 

            Juliet, perched on the stool, howled.

 

            “Liz Lester, language,” Lester said quellingly. “Juliet, come down from there before you break your neck.”

 

            Juliet bounced off the stool, and landed gracefully on the floor. Liz harrumphed, and turned to picking egg-shell out of the egg slopping about in a bowl, and due to become potato omelette. “Jon. Top cupboard, salt.”

 

            “Don’t I even get a hello?” Lyle said plaintively, attempting puppy eyes and failing.

 

            Liz stuck her tongue out at him to disguise a reluctant grin. “No. I hate you.”

 

            “With the fiery passion of a thousand suns?”

 

            “A _million_ ,” Liz said, and wiped her eggy fingers on his face. “You packed?”

 

            “Yeugh,” Lyle said comprehensively, rinsing the yolk out of his stubble at the sink. “Thanks a bunch! ’Course I did. What d’you take me for, an idiot?”

 

            Liz gave him a look he recognised from Lester’s face; a fairly regular occurrence, but one that always gave him a jolt. This one said ‘I’m not sure you want me to answer that question’, and he laughed at it, turning away to get the salt and handing it to her.

 

             Lyle leaned against the breakfast bar, arms folded, watching Liz cook. She moved quickly, efficiently, the same way James did, and although she didn’t have his colouring, her bone structure and a lot of her mannerisms spoke clearly of him, and she also looked like she was going to match his height. Physically, she was tougher and fitter than James; her brain hadn’t had the idealistic edges rubbed off it yet, though, and she swore like a docker when under stress.

 

            Lyle wondered what Kathy, Liz’s mother, was like. He’d never met her; he’d seen pictures, and he’d heard Liz speak of her, although Liz clearly had it in for her. How much of Kathy was in Liz? The dark hair and brown eyes were similar, and James had said that Liz’s temper was like Kathy’s, but apart from that, Lyle really had no idea.

 

            He blinked and started as water landed on his face; Liz had flicked it at him, apparently to get his attention. “What the hell?” he obliged.

 

            “Earth to Jon, are you receiving me?” Liz demanded, cutting potato into neat chunks. “I said you were wrong.”

 

            “Wrong about what?”

 

            Liz concentrated carefully on the potatoes. “This isn’t like a double date. It’s like family.”

 

            There was a long pause, and Lyle watched Liz’s shoulders stiffen, as she waited for him to tell her that she had entirely the wrong idea. He moved over and stood behind her, watching as she tipped potato chunks and egg into the frying pan and stirred them. When the spitting of butter and eggs and potato had died down, he said, trying to be conversational: “You might be right.”

 

            Liz turned her head, and gave him the patent Lester eyebrow raise and a cocky grin he recognised, with a shock, as one of his own. “I’m _always_ right.”


End file.
